I met a man in the back blocks of Papua New Guinea while on a linguistic survey. We (5 of us white strangers) arrived at a remote village unannounced at dusk. The people proceeded to clear out a house and clean it to allow us the use of it for the night. They took their last chicken and cooked it so we had something to eat. After the meal I got into a conversation with an old man. He asked me if we had tomatoes for the trail the next day. [Tomatoes are good as a vegetable that has high water content when hiking]. I told him no we didn’t. He invited me to go with him to his garden so he could give me some tomatoes. I declined the offer knowing PNG gardens are far from the village and it was already approaching 10.00 pm. Also, it’s hard to follow a Papua New Guinean through the bush in the dark. As I was leaving with the others on the trail the next morning, this man came up to me carrying a bundle of tomatoes, as we made our way out of the village. He had gone to his garden for me in the middle of the night and had come back early with the tomatoes, to make sure I had something for the trail. Me, a white stranger he would never see again and all of my friends. I suspect he gave all he had to care for us. Now that is hospitality. To have done anything else would have been inconceivable in a culture which places high value on hospitality.
